“Well, it’s a rough life,” said Brother Bart, recalling his own late experience. “It’s little chance it gives you to think or pray. But the old man ye talk of prayed; I am sure of that. The beads here bear token of it.”
“Aye,” answered Captain Jeb. “He held to them to the last as tight as if they was an anchor chain,—why I don’t know.”
“That’s yer ignorance, poor man!” said Brother Bart, compassionately. “Ye should pray morning and evening for light, and perhaps ye’ll be given the grace to know what the hould of blessed beads is to a dying hand. Now, if ye don’t mind, I’ll rest a bit in this quiet place, and try to say me own prayers that I missed last night; for it was a sore trying time to me, both body and soul. There’s no harm can come to the boys, now that they are safe here.”
“I wouldn’t swear to four younkers like them anywhere,” was the grim answer. “But ye can rest easy, Padre: I’ll keep an eye on them, never fear.” And, closing the old Captain’s door on his anxious guest, Captain Jeb proceeded to “keep an eye” on the boys who were exploring Killykinick in every direction.
As it had little more than half a mile of visible surface, the exploration was naturally limited; but there was a “deal more below,” as Captain Jeb assured them,—reefs and shoals stretching out in every direction, and widening every year with the silt carried down from the shore. There were one or two wide hollows between the rocks, where that same silt, top-dressed with richer earth imported from more favored spots by Captain Jeb, served as kitchen garden, in which beans, cabbages and potatoes made a promising show. On another sheltered slope, green with coarse grass, brown Betty was pasturing peacefully; while in a henhouse beyond there was clucking and cackling, cheerfully suggestive of chickens and eggs.
“We used to hev mostly ship rations,” said Captain Jeb. “But the old man got sort of picky and choosy these last years, and turned agin the hard-tack and old hoss meat that had been good enough for him before. So I got a few boat-loads of good earth and took to growing things. And things do grow here for sure, if you only give them a chance. All they want is root hold; the sun and the air and the soft mists do the rest.”
Then there was the pump house; for even the toughest of old “salts” must have fresh water. And it had cost many a dollar to strike it in these rocks; but strike it at last the well-borers did, and the pump was roofed and walled in as Killykinick’s greatest treasure.
“Stick round here, younkers, along by the ‘Lady Jane’ and the wharf and the garden beds, and down by the ‘Sary Ann’ and the boats to the south beach, and you’ll be pretty safe. But I’m going to show you a place whar you can’t do no monkey shining, for it ain’t safe at all.”
And as Captain Jeb spoke he turned to the high wall of rock that had backed and sheltered the “Lady Jane” for nearly fifty years; and, bending his thin form, he pushed through a low, narrow opening, with, it is needless to say, four wide-eyed boys scrambling breathlessly behind him,—Dan, as usual, in the lead, pulling Freddy on.
For a moment they stumbled in darkness, through which came a thunderous sound like the swell of some mighty organ under a master hand; and then they were out in light and space again, with the ocean cliff of Killykinick arching above and around them in a great cave hollowed by the beating waves out of solid rock. Wall and roof were rough and jagged, broken into points and ledges; but the floor was smoothed by the tide into a shining, glittering surface, that widened out to meet the line of breakers thundering white-foamed beyond, their sprays scattering in light showers far and near.